Shivered Bones
by karmascreams
Summary: After the victory over Voldemort settles, Harry is left dealing with the aftermath. On top of that he now has to make decisions and deal with the consequents of his actions over the last year. (A post-war fic.) Don't forget to review!
1. As Dust Settles

**A/N:** This is my second HPfic. I haven't yet abandoned my first, but this idea came to me and I really wanted to write it. I don't normally have author notes, so this won't be a regular thing. With that, I hope you enjoy the words I bring you, and I look foward to reading your thoughts on this chapter and the coming ones.

**Disclaimer:** We all know who owns the Harry Potter character/world.

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**As Dust Settles**

Despite the darkness of the room around him, he squeezed his eyes shut. The day had come and gone and there was nothing to say of it. The young man had quietly attended meals, eating the bare minimum of what Mrs. Weasley would deem acceptable. Although, if one were to look past the façade she held up, they'd be able to see that she wasn't the same woman she had been when he had first met her. Which wasn't surprising, she had just lost one of her sons, and the heartache had a long way to go before it began scarring over.

No, today had been just like the last couple that had come to pass. Harry would attend meals, not looking at anyone, and do his best to ignore their words and looks of sympathy. He knew his friends were getting fed up with him. Hermione claimed quite often, in a hushed whisper, that this wasn't like him, that he needed to talk to somebody. After the words passed through her lips for the umpteenth time Harry had shot her an unmasked look of his obvious pain and turmoil.

Hermione had been uncharacteristically quiet after that, and had waited until Harry had left the room to talk to the others. They were all worried about him. They were also just as worried about George who had been, however possible, even worse than Harry himself.

George was what killed Harry. He had only come out of his room a few times within the last few days to go the bathroom before retreating to the four walls that made up his room. The room that he had shared with his brother, his twin, all their lives. At night Harry could hear him quietly sobbing, overcome with grief. Once, Harry had gone into the bathroom after George, and to his horror he had found the mirror had been reduced dust. It had been that moment that Harry had stopped talking to anyone.

It was his fault. Fred. He could have been spared if Harry had just given himself up sooner. But he was just one stain of the many that covered Harry's hands. And it was all blood he would never be able to wash off.

Fred, Lupin, Tonks… Not to mention his parents, they were just the beginning, the biggest, brightest stain of red. There was also Cedric. He should have just grabbed the cup by himself, but no, he had to convince the other boy to grab it with him. And Sirius. If he was honest he regretted that one the most, because if he hadn't of been so rash…

Taking a deep breath he felt a few stray tears escape and run down his cheeks. Dumbledore… there would never be anything he could say to feel okay about watching his mentor die like he had. It didn't even enter his mind what Snape had shared with him at the end. Snape; his death would be the only one Harry didn't feel the need to bare.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as his mind settled on Hedwig. His first friend, the one he told absolutely everything to. More tears freed themselves. And Dobby. His last words would forever haunt him, and he would forever hear them, for his name would not change, not even if he changed it himself.

Another deep breath invaded his lungs as the names and faces washed over him. There was no stopping the tears, or the quiet sobs that wracked his body. It had all been his fault.

Soon, the morning sun began rising in the sky. And as the last shudders of his torment passed, Harry made a decision. There would be no more nights listening to George mourn, or days where he'd receive shy looks of sympathy. No, he would leave, and they would move on.

Getting off the bed he quietly went about the room he had been given to sleep in, Percy's, and collected the few things he had scattered about. As he shrunk his trunk down he did one more sweep about with his eyes before leaving. The room looked as if he had never been in it.

When he reached the kitchen he was glad to see that no one was up yet, and if they were, that they had yet to come downstairs. Ever so quietly, he left, not looking back at the house that had become his second home. Once he reached the wards he apparated. He hoped when he got there, they'd not demand he leave. After all, he did destroy the building pretty well last time he had entered it.

The streets of Diagon Alley had yet to become alive, though a few shop owners were getting ready for business today, as well as repairing their old buildings. Harry nodded respectively to a few that managed to catch his attention with small smiles and words of thanks on their lips.

With a deep breath Harry entered the building. There were no marks or any sign of the break in and break out that had happened during his last visit. As soon as he entered all eyes landed on him and before he could say a word two of the guards swept him up and silently guided him to an office in the back of the building. He had just sighed, accepting the treatment.

Once they reached the office they left him outside a door, plated in gold with no plaque offering who might be inside. A few tense minutes passed and Harry felt the weight of the stares he was receiving from the guards. Soon though, the door to the office opened, and out stepped an old looking goblin, with white robes fitting to his form.

"Mr. Potter," he spoke, his tone free of any emotion. "Come in."

Nodding, Harry went into the office and stood beside a large chair waiting for the goblin to tell him he could sit.

"I am Arnok, the Head Goblin here at Gringott's," the goblin spoke, finally gesturing for Harry to take a seat. "We have much to discuss. To begin with, your break in and break out," the emphasis he put on the last two words caused Harry to shrink a bit in his seat. "Never before has one been successful in taking something from one of our vaults. I'm sure you remember the attempted theft back in 1991. Am I right?" Harry nodded and Arnok continued. "I am, as well as the rest of my nation, very upset," he spoke the word as if it wasn't quite what he wanted to say. "Now there is a fine, and as soon as you sign the appropriate documents, it will be paid and we can move on and talk about other things."

The small man procured a couple pieces of parchment before setting them in front of Harry. "You may read over them if you wish, they just state that you take responsibility for your actions, that you will accept the guard that will forever follow you when you enter the building, and pay the fine in full."

Reading over the dark print Harry nodded to each point and took the offered quill before signing on the bottom of both parchments. Their copy, and his own.

"Good. Now, your main account, minus the ten thousand galleons you just signed over to us, equals up to roughly six hundred million, twenty two thousand, two hundred, and forty three galleons. With the addition of the Black vault that can now be turned over to you, as you have come of age, you have in total you have nearly a billion galleons, not including liquid assets such as the properties and whatever other wealth that comes in from business' your family or the Black family has, in the past, taken some ownership of."

Harry sat there taking it all in, and when he finally spoke a good five minutes had passed in silence. Looking at Arnok, Harry bit his lip. "May I ask a question concerning the other two that were involved in the break in?"

"You may," Arnok stated his beady eyes staring at the young man before him. He wondered what he was about to be asked.

"Well, they're my friends, and I know that they won't be able to afford the fine, so is it possible for me to pay it for them?" Harry asked, hoping that he would be allowed to.

Arnok was taken aback by the request, but slowly nodded. "It is possible. However, they will still have to sign the documents stating they take responsibility, and will allow the guard to accompany them throughout the building."

Harry felt his lips tug into a smile and he nodded. "Is it also possible that they aren't told I paid the fine for them? Or that there was even a fine?"

Arnok once again nodded, barely starting to understand the young man. "You are a kind friend Mr. Potter. Is there anything else you would like to ask, or would you like to go visit your vaults?"

Thinking it over for a minute, Harry nodded. "I'd like to know about my properties. And then I would like to go to my vaults," Harry said, his head still swimming with how much wealth he now had.

"You have three Potter properties. One up in Scotland, in Hogsmeade in fact. There is one in Edinburgh, and there is one right here in London. You also have three Black properties, two of which are in different countries, Albania and Denmark. Would you like information regarding certain ones or shall we get the guard to bring you to your vaults?" Arnok listed.

"Um, I'd like to know about the Potter properties," Harry stated. He was a bit surprised the Potter's only had three properties, he would have expected them to have more than that considering how much money they, he, had.

Nodding, Arnok pulled another document from his desk and began reading it. "In regards to the property here in London, the document states it is a house of average size. It has three bedrooms, one of which has a connecting bathroom. There's also another bathroom downstairs, which is located next to the kitchen, of average size. There is one office which includes a small library. The living room has a fireplace with working floo. Once you give the address it will work again, the floo address for the London house is 'Potter London'. Now. in regards to the property in Scotland, located in Hogsmeade.

"It is a small cottage with two bedrooms. It's on the outskirts of the village, but has been abandoned for almost two decades so it will need some work done to it. It also includes a small office with a library. The kitchen is noted to be small. There is a full bathroom. This living room also comes with a fireplace and working floo. Working address by floo is 'Potter Cottage'. I think you'd also like to know that ownership has been quiet so no one actually knows the Potter's, you, own it.

"And finally, the Potter Mansion, in Edinburgh. The document is not quite complete but it does state that this property has a house elf, who you can meet when and if you go. There are eleven bedrooms, two with connecting bathrooms. Two living rooms, three offices, the library here is the main library and as so it's quite large. Six bathrooms, large kitchen, working floo. Calling address, 'Potter Manor'."

Taking a moment, Harry let all the information sink in before nodding. "I think I'd like to see my vaults now." His voice was almost a whisper. To think, a few hours ago he was alone in a room crying his heart out, now he was becoming a high member of society, not like he wasn't already. "Oh, one more question, is it possible for me to have a list of all the information you gave me today, along with any other information we didn't discuss?"

Arnok nodded, opened a drawer, and handed Harry a stack of parchments. "I believe this will be very informative, for there is much we didn't discuss. Harvon will bring you to your vaults now," he stated watching as Harry left his office. "And Mr. Potter," he called as Harry got to the door. "Thank you."

Harry nodded not bothering to ask what he was be thanked for, before following another goblin towards the lifts that would bring him to his vaults.

As they made their way to his vaults, Harry was well aware of the eyes on him. He didn't blame them in the slightest. Once the cart started slowing down, Harry took a deep breath. This was it, he'd finally see his family fortune.

Before Harry could get out of the cart, the guard got out first, followed by Harvon, the goblin that would be showing him to his vault. It didn't take him but a second to realize this would be the procedure every time he came to his vaults. "But at least I can come to my vaults," he thought, finally getting out of the cart and following the small goblin to his first vault, the Black vault.

"Because you inherited it you'll have to offer a sacrifice, a drop of blood will do," Harvon spoke, his voice high and squeaky and it reminded Harry very much of Professor Flitwick. The goblin produced a small dagger and handed it to Harry before stepping aside so Harry could go up to the door. Nicking his thumb, Harry placed the now bleeding finger on the door, which in turn glowed a dull green before accepting the new owner.

Handing the dagger back to the goblin, Harry watched as he stepped up and opened the door for him. "We will be outside waiting," Harvon informed him as the vault door faded from existence, allowing him entrance.

Walking into the vault, Harry took a deep breath. He couldn't believe the sight before his eyes, and could only imagine what the Potter vault would look like. The vault was wide, but Harry could definitely make out the back wall. On one side there was the stack of gold, not quite reaching the ceiling. On the other side was a small bookshelf. There weren't many books on it, and Harry assumed one of the Black properties housed most of their books. Looking towards the back wall Harry noticed a bunch of cabinets and a few more bookshelves, although those didn't have any books on them, but objects that Harry could only begin to guess the properties of.

Going to the bookshelf off to the side, Harry scanned a few titles before grabbing a couple. One was bound in dark leather, and the silver title stitched into the side of it stated it was written by Walburga Black, Sirius' mother. He had no idea what it would be about but he was going to read it. The second book he grabbed was titled "**Darkest Arts: The Best**".

Deciding he would definitely come back at another time, Harry left the vault and found the two goblins standing just outside.

"To the Potter Vault?" Harvon asked. Harry nodded and the goblin gestured for him to get back into the cart.

Once both the goblins were in they raced down the track further to his next vault. Again the procedure of the guard getting out, followed by Harvon took place, before Harry too, got out.

Unlike the Black vault he didn't need to give this door blood, and Harvon opened it for him stating, once again they'd be waiting. Harry nodded and went in.

Like the Black Vault his gold was stacked on one side. Across from the gold, on the other side, was also a bookshelf, this one full of books. On the far side of the room, it looked as if it could be endless. The first thing to catch his eyes on this wall were the jewel encrusted weapons. There was also a couple cabinets and trunks that were pretty beat up.

But one trunk in particular caught Harry's attention. It was deep red, almost crimson, with the Potter family crest upon the top of it. Walking over to it, Harry carefully opened the lid, and was surprised to find many different compartments, full of different things. Deciding he would look at it more later he shrunk it down and stuck it in his pocket next to the books he got from the Black vault.

Going over to the bookshelf, he scanned the titles and was surprised to see one labeled "**The** **Potter Family**". Grabbing it, he shrunk it down and stuck it in his pocket. Realizing there was nothing else he wanted he grabbed some gold and left.

One day he would come back and go through everything, if he could, but for the time being he would leave it be.

Once again in the cart, Harry asked if it would be alright to take his wand out and place a glamour on himself. He was, after all, leaving as soon as they reached the lobby.

Harvon eyed him wearily before speaking, "Your glamour won't be good, easy to see through. If you would like, I could place one upon you."

Wondering what his angle was Harry titled his head to the side. "Goblins don't help humans," he stated, "why would you want to place a glamour on me?"

"Because Mr. Potter, even though you stole from us, you also saved the wizarding world," Harvon said. "We are thankful for that. And if I'm right in assuming, you're planning on disappearing for a while. Am I right?" Eyeing the goblin, Harry wondered how he could guess such a thing, and shrugged, not quite answering the question. "Even if I'm wrong, us goblins can understand the want to blend in. The glamour would only last as long as you need it to. Once you disapparate it would cancel itself."

Sighing, Harry nodded in agreement. "Go ahead."

Nodding, the goblin spoke in his native tongue and waved his hand around before conjuring up a mirror and holding it in front of Harry's face. "Acceptable?"

Looking at himself, Harry gaped. Gone was his messy black hair, replaced by long blonde locks, and the scar on his forehead was invisible. And his green eyes were now a soft blue. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

Harvon nodded and gestured for Harry to get out. They had reached the end of the track. "The wizarding world is going to miss you Mr. Potter. I personally look forward to the day you return."

Not saying anything Harry nodded his head and left the bank. As he stepped through the doors, he watched as Mr. Weasley rushed through them. He didn't linger though, Mr. Weasley hadn't spared him a glance.

Out in Diagon Alley members of the Order were going about the shops, and his friends were looking at everyone, trying to find their missing friend. Harry felt his heart stop for a moment as they looked to him, and it sped back up as they went on to the next person. He was unrecognizable.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry made his way to the Leakey Cauldron and stepped into the floo. He wasn't heard as he called out "Potter Manor" and disappeared in a burst of green flames.


	2. And Smoke Clears

**And Smoke Clears**

Arriving at the Potter Mansion, Harry barely took notice of the décor, or anything else around him. He merely trudged through his new lodgings in search of a room to sleep in. He made his way up the stairs and opened the first door he saw. Inside was a bed, a desk, a mirror hanging on the wall, and on far side of the room a large window, with curtains hanging on either side.

Taking the things out of his pockets, he settled them on the desk, planning to restore them to their proper sizes later, before collapsing on the bed. He didn't even bother bringing the blankets up over him as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Later when he woke, he felt a bit disoriented, until the memories of the last twenty-four hours came back to him. He was alone, with no Dursley's, no Voldemort, and no friends trying to get him to open up. It was with that thought, a small house-elf in a remarkably clean tea-towel appeared before him.

"Hello Young Master," the house elf spoke, bowing so he was parallel to the floor. "I am Caspar, the house-elf that resides here at Potter Manor. What can I do for you? Perhaps you want something to eat? Or maybe a tour of the property? All you need do is ask."

Looking at his new house-elf, Harry felt his emotions bubble back up to the surface and tears come to his eyes. He didn't deserve this house-elf's kindness, and he certainly didn't deserve everything he had gotten from Gringott's, including this house.

"Oh no, Young Master, was it something I said? I can certainly punish myself if I'm not satisfactory. Young Master?" Caspar questioned, stretching his neck forward to get a better look at the young man in front of him. "Perhaps you're hurt. I can do minor healing charms, but anything that requires more than that I'll be able to take you to St. Mungo's. Young Master?" He asked again.

Harry's body was shaking from his suppressed sobs. He shook his head, not trusting his voice, and motioned for the house-elf to leave.

"I shall prepare a late lunch then," Caspar said before popping out of the room.

The second Caspar left, Harry released the small hold he had on his emotions. In less than a minute his face was stained with tears and the sounds emitting from his small frame could be heard all the way down to the kitchens. Caspar sadly looked towards the ceiling in the direction of his new master. He knew who his new master was, he had nothing but time on his hands the last seventeen plus years, and the Daily Prophet had been his biggest anchor to the outside world.

He had, of course, kept the property up to standards, never letting dust settle onto any of the furniture, but once he had finished his chores for the day he had been left to his own devices. At first he had taken to just sleeping and waking up when the sun rose the next day. Soon though, that became so monotonous that he consulted a portrait of one of his old master's who told him that he could rearrange the library if he felt like it.

So he did. And once he was done with that he became curious and opened one of the many books. Over the years he had read maybe a quarter of the books and had learned more than probably any house-elf ever. He had learned proper grammar, many of the wizard laws, and a great deal of history. He knew that if any house-elf ever learned of what he had done the last ten years he'd be ostracized; That was hardly a worry for him.

Before too long he heard his young master's cries dissipate. Grabbing the platter with the sandwiches he popped into the room and found his young master staring at the wall, as if he could see beyond it. "Young Master?"

Once again looking at his new house-elf, Harry gathered all the breath he could, before finally speaking, "Thank you Caspar, but I'm not hungry." His voice was scratchy and strained as he spoke his first words since leaving Gringott's. The fact that he had been relentlessly crying may have been a factor as well.

"Young Master, I must insist you eat," Caspar said, holding out the tray. "A few bites at the least."

"I said I'm not hungry," Harry retorted, a misplaced anger striking the small creature. With a sigh Harry apologized.

"It is fine Young Master, I understand. Perhaps you will tell me what you expect of me and we can work from there," Caspar suggested, offering a sympathetic smile.

Staring at the small elf, Harry was at a loss. What did he expect?

Seeing the dilemma, Caspar spoke up again, "My old Master was firm on me keeping the house clean, but I do that regardless. He also instilled that I leave him be when he was in these _moods_."

"I just need time," Harry whispered, casting his gaze out the window. The sun was up and just barely reached his window. "How large is the property?"

A bright smile reached Caspar's face at the prospect of telling his new master all about his property and what he had done to keep it manicured. "The grounds reach well into the surrounding forest, before the forest is a small Quidditch pitch. There is also a training area outside. There was a barn, but the horses have all passed on. Inside on the bottom floor is a potions lab, an office, a broom closet, another training area, a weapons center, the kitchen, and a bathroom. On the ground floor there is the entrance hall, part of the library which has it's own office area, a dining room for up to sixty people. There is a ballroom, and the living room, and another the bathroom is under the stairs, all connected to the main entrance hall. On this floor there is this room, there are four bathrooms, ten other rooms, the rest of the library, another small living room, and an office. The top floor is the attic and is full of old furniture."

Harry had closed his eyes as soon as Caspar started telling him of all the luxury in the place. Upon hearing the end of the expanses, he opened them, and found Caspar staring happily around the room, everything on the desk had been restored to it's proper size.

Harry noticed Caspar staring at the book he got from the Black vault with wide eyes. "Master isn't a dark wizard, why does Master have that book?" Caspar questioned the air not expecting to hear Harry answer.

"I'm not, I just want to know what spells these wizards use. And please, you can call me Harry," Harry said, quelling the elf's fears. "Have I got any letters?"

"Yes, shall I bring them up?" Caspar asked. Harry nodded, and Caspar popped away. Quickly he returned and handed Harry four letters, one of which he could tell was a howler. "Anything you wish me to do now Young Master?"

Eyeing the small house Harry thought that at least he wasn't being called "master". Harry shook his head and picked up the howler, best not to leave it any longer.

"Harry James Potter!" Mrs. Weasley's voice screamed ringing all through the house. Her voice cracked a bit and filled with tears. "How dare you leave without as much as a goodbye. We have been worried sick over you and now you've up and disappeared?! We all know you're feeling this is your fault, but, it is not. You come back right away young man," she paused again before she let out a tearful cry. "Just stay safe Harry, and tell me where you are."

Her letter sealed itself again and Harry took a minute to just stare off into the distance. He almost wished he hadn't listened to it. He had known they'd be worried, and they'd want him to come back, but he wouldn't be writing back, or going back. They would never learn of where he went.

Picking up the letter that appeared to be from Professor McGonagall, he sighed. What would she have to say?

"Potter,

First and foremost, you did everything you could. Stop blaming yourself.

I've been asked to let you know that Kingsley wishes to speak with you.

And I would like to speak with you as well.

Be safe, Harry, there are still Death Eater's running amuck.

Regards,

Minerva"

Another sigh escaped him and he shook his head. The Death Eater's wouldn't be a problem for him. Yes they'd be angry, but coming after the man that killed their master? He doubted they'd be that stupid.

Opening the letter from Hermione, he saw it was from her and Ron.

"Harry,

You've been blaming yourself and not talking to us. Don't be stupid.

It's not your fault. No one blames you, expect yourself.

_Yeah mate, everyone knew what they were getting into!_

We really wish that you'd come back. I'm going to be leaving for Australia.

I'm going to find my parents and bring them back.

We miss you already Harry.

_Ron_ and Hermione"

Seeing the last letter was from Ginny he felt his heart stop. He knew she'd be the most upset, and he almost didn't open it, but he had to. She deserved that much.

"You prat.

If you know what is good for you, you'll come back.

With a good stinking apology.

Ginny"

Of course she was angry. But he wasn't going back, and he didn't have the apology she wanted. Looking back out the window, Harry wondered what he was going to do now. He wanted to study, but before he could do that, he really needed to stop crying at every interval of the day.

Hearing Caspar return, Harry turned to see what he wanted.

"May I speak freely Young Master?" Harry nodded and Caspar continued, "I feel you should talk about it. I have seen this pain before, Young Master. This pain is not good to keep inside. This pain destroyed old Master. You can talk to me if you want. I will listen and I will definitely keep your secrets. I am here for you Young Master."

Breaking down once again Harry just shook his head. With sobs heavy in his voice he claims, "They're all dead. They're all dead because of me."

Seeing his master so broken down Caspar isn't sure what to do. So he just asks, "Did Master fire the killing curse?" Harry shook his head. "Then Master didn't kill them."

"I might as well have," Harry stated, tears once again running down his cheeks. "If I had just turned myself over sooner, if I left finding the horcruxes to other people, they'd still be here, they'd still have a beating heart."

"You can't know that for certain Master. Fate always finds a way to take it's path," Caspar relayed, remembering what his old master once told him.

"I just want them back," Harry cried. "That's all." And then it came to him, he could have them back, at least in some way. The resurrection stone. But he had left it in the middle of the forest, and it was surely trampled into the ground.

"Perhaps Young Master would like to talk to Master Stephan? His portrait is very insightful, he went through similar things," Caspar said trying hard to help his master.

"There are portraits? Do my parents have one?" Harry asked trying not to become excited.

"I'm sorry sir, they don't," Caspar said, his little eyes full of sympathy for his young master. "Master Stephan would love to talk to you though. He's only had me the last many years."

With a sigh, Harry just nodded. What could it hurt? "Where is he?"

"Downstairs library, in the corner next to the desk," Caspar said. "I shall bring you some tea."

As Harry made his way down stairs his mind raced around the idea of the resurrection stone, and the tale of the three brothers. Maybe the story was just a fiction built upon the truth, but did that mean that the three brothers created the Hallows?

Going into the library, Harry quickly found the portrait. The man, Stephan, had been young when the painting was made. His hair was combed neatly to the side, and a full beard adorned his face. When he opened his eyes they met Harry's green ones with their own striking blue. "The man of the house has returned, I see," Stephan said, raising his eyebrow at Harry. "Congratulations on your victory, I'm very pleased to hear that my heir hasn't left before giving his seed to another."

Harry's eyes went wide at this statement and he shook his head. "I'm not looking for…to do that!"

"But our line must continue, so you must," Stephan replied, eyeing the man in front of him from his feet to the top of his head. "I thought you'd be taller."

Harry stayed silent for a while. He came here wanting to ask about the story, but now he was being affronted by a portrait of his late relative. And the relative wanted him to have kids! He was only a kid himself!

"Young Master," Caspar said, setting the tea on the table. "Master Stephan doesn't expect you to have a kid right away, he's merely stating for you to have one eventually."

Moving his gaze between Caspar and the portrait, Harry shrugged. Maybe eventually he would have a kid. But for now, he was going to ask the questions he had. "How old were you when you died?"

"I was forty-three," Stephan said.

"What year was it?" Harry continued, he had no idea what year the invisibility cloak was created, but he was sure as hell going to find out. Stephan was his only lead.

"1876," Stephan told him.

"Oh. What do you know of the Deathly Hallows?"

Stephan's gaze pierced the young man with a harsh look. "And why would you want to know about those?"

"Because I am the Master of Death," Harry stated. In his head he was thinking, "Because I want to create a new resurrection stone!"

Stephan looked shocked. The Potter's had only ever been given the invisibility cloak. However this young man got all three of them… He was shocked. "The cloak has been in our family for generations, given to us by our fathers, and Death himself," Stephan relayed.

"I know that, but surely that's just the story. Ignotus and his brother's had to have made the Deathly Hallows themselves, right?"

"It was the story I was told as a boy, and the story I told to my own son. The creation of the Hallows died with the Peverell brothers, just accept the story for what it is, and move on," Stephan said turning and leaving his portrait. He would answer no more questions.

Harry sighed. How was he going to create his own stone if no one had the answers of how the Hallows were created? Taking a sip of tea, Harry called to Caspar.

"Yes, Young Master?"

"Did the Potter's keep any kind of…journals?" he asked, unsure where to begin his research.

"A few of them did write some, Young Master," Caspar said.

"Do you know where they are kept?"

Caspar nodded, "In the vault at Gringott's."

Again, Harry sighed. It seemed he would be taking a trip back to the world sooner than he thought. He would have those journals though, and he would find out the truth. He would create his own stone, and he would bring back the dead. He owed it to everyone.


End file.
